


If I Don't Keep Up My Light

by Me_Being_Difficult



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Andrew is Cursed, Andrew is still the adopted son of Mrs Spear, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betaed, Curses, Gift Fic, Her name is Cass!, Historical Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lighthouses, M/M, Memory Loss, Misunderstandings, Neil is trying to save him, Non-Graphic Violence, POV switch, So he's not Andrew Minyard here, ambigous backgrounds, conveniently adaptable curses, conveniently killed parents, did Mrs Spear have a name in canon?, inspired by a song, sea side setting, shitty lighthouse anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Me_Being_Difficult/pseuds/Me_Being_Difficult
Summary: Andrew Spear had been entrusted with a solemn duty of taking care of the lighthouse and something else for the past decade. He’s lonely, secretive, and filled with despair.Neil Josten had been delivering supplies to Andrew every month for last two years. He’s free, curious and in love.Neil Josten will definitely get to the bottom of all of Andrew’s secrets whether Andrew likes it or not.*This is a part of AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021 and is based on song Sleepy Hollow by Su Lee*
Relationships: Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 17
Kudos: 77
Collections: AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021





	1. I'll be doomed tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moderatelymothlike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moderatelymothlike/gifts).



> This work is a part of aftg mixtape exchange 2021!! The song this was inspired by is 'Sleepy Hollow' by Su Lee which is an absolute madlad song! Thank you moderatelymothlike for introducing me to this amazing artist!! I started with the feel and vibe of the song and then it got out of my hand and became 13k plot. I highly recommend giving that song a listen whenever you feel like.
> 
> This is also vaguely inspired by movie The Lighthouse, as in, it helped me set the environment.
> 
> The story contains themes of abuse, implied violence, nightmares, mental instability. If anything is particularly triggering, please tell me so I can put appropriate warning. Also Dr*ke gets what he deserves
> 
> Chapter titles are randomly selected song lyrics

Once upon a time, there lived a lady in the kingdom near the sea. Some said she was a witch, but it is not our place to pass judgements. She had two sons, or rather she had one son and one property. He was left on her doorstep but the lady took him in and raised him as his own. As kind as the lady was, the son was a monster. It toyed with the other, broke him down only to be rebuilt by the lady’s kindness, every day. 

The other, broken son kept quiet. Instead, he took his shattered pieces and became something jagged and deadly. 

However, there was only so long before the monster son began seeking out others. This, the broken son could not tolerate. He confronted him, he fought him, he begged him. He was strong, but the monster was stronger. 

The night was dark and stormy. Lightning flashed to show the Monster’s hideous grin as he advanced towards his fallen prey. He put one hand on his toy’s neck and pressed. The poor broken son struggled fruitlessly. Suddenly the doors were thrown open and the lady barged in. 

Stunned at what she saw, she immediately pulled the monster away. The monster almost turned on her, but she thrust her hand and spoke an enchantment that banished the monster. Her other son who lay on the floor coughed and looked at her in fear.

“Did you kill him?”

“I’ve sent him far away, my dear. Where he cannot touch anybody. But no, I couldn’t kill my own.” A deep sadness clouded her lovely face.

“You saved my life,” the broken son said in wonderment. “How do ever I repay you?”

The lady choked a sob but she managed to speak, “There’s one way.”

…

The window of the parlour room was left open and it was banging in the strong wind. Andrew looked up from his glass. His vision swam but even then, it was clear the twilight had fallen. He stood up and stumbled his way outside. A chill ran up his spine and he clutched his cloak tighter around him. All of his senses were muddled, his surroundings dark, his face numb, the deafening roar of sea in his ears and the bitter taste of whiskey on his tongue. The foul smell of the outhouse wafted his way with the wind. 

Andrew felt like he was dead. Ten years had passed and he still wasn’t used to this utter loneliness and drudgery of his new life. He looked at the dark sea that stretched till the horizon around his tiny island. On very clear and calm days, he could imagine he saw a sliver of his mainland on the western horizon. But there wasn’t even the comfort of his imagination on the dark troubled nights like these. He was utterly alone.

Well, alone, with only Drake for the company. He squared his shoulders and made his way towards the lighthouse behind his tiny shack. He came round to the big front door and pulled on the lock. A daily ritual to make sure the lock was still strong. Something thudded and growled inside and Andrew took a step back. He hurried to the other side where the ladder ran all the way up to the top. 

He quickly made his way up and set his mind on not looking down. It was still easier on the ladder. The real restraint had to be performed once he made his way to the topmost ledge where the light was. Inside the lighthouse, except for the service platform where he fueled the lamp, there was nothing but dark abyss under the ledge. One false step, and he’d fall all the way down to the ground, in the clasp of his biggest nightmare. He was always pacing, waiting, growling. Thankfully, in his cursed form, he couldn’t speak but Andrew’s imagination was plenty sufficient.

It was Drake who was cursed. To never leave, never speak, never see. But Andrew felt like he was the one suffering punishment. Spending his life on the tiny island, making sure Drake gets food and water and doesn’t die. Climbing the height of the tower twice a day, every day, without fail to light the lamp. At once a beacon and a sign of danger. 

The moon shone outside through the clouds and its weak light illuminated the ledge. But Andrew could find his way there in pitch black darkness. Filling the oil, wiping the bulb, lighting the fuse. The growl from the bottom increased in volume as he lit the light. He ignored it and snatched the small basket from the heap near the wall. He put some food and drink in it, held it against the light so it could be seen as he dropped it below. 

Now it was up to Drake to catch it unspilled. Would’ve been definitely easier to tie to a rope and lower it, but a basket a day was a small sacrifice to make to not give drake access to any rope. Andrew climbed down the ladder, his heart in his mouth. 

He went back to his shack and added a notch on the wall of his kitchen. Tomorrow, he realised. Tomorrow. He didn’t remember what exactly, but something was to happen tomorrow. The notches indicated that. He gazed up and out at the sea, hoping it would provide answers.

This was another frustrating thing about his half stuck life. Andrew undoubtedly had an accurate memory. He remembered every horrible moment of his childhood, he recalled every numb panic filled day on this island. Yet there was something he kept forgetting. Something he was made to forget repeatedly. It happened every month. It was going to happen tomorrow.


	2. I Never Treated Me Like I'm Alive

Andrew woke up the next day, climbed the lighthouse and shut the lamp off. The dawn had broken a bit ago and the small windows to the east side threw slices of light inside. He couldn’t resist. He couldn’t. 

He looked down. He saw Drake looking up at him. Shaggy, dirty, vicious. He bared his teeth and raised a hand as if to grab him. Andrew’s heart skipped a beat and he stumbled back, almost falling down. Ghost of past memories whispered in his ear, “Andrew, come now, come down, say please and I’ll-” 

“No!” Andrew yelled and rushed down. He ran back to the cottage and threw open the kitchen cabinets. The whiskey bottle was empty. He opened another cabinet, his pill bottle was also empty.

Supplies. Supplies were coming today.

But why would he forget that?

He came outside to see the boat on the western horizon, coming from the mainland. It came near and a man sitting at the back waved at him.

“Delivery is here!” The man said in a singsong voice.

Redhead at the front stood up and put the anchor down. He was wearing a tank top despite the bracing winds and his arms were covered in colourful tattoos. He looked up to meet Andrew’s eyes and Andrew felt like someone punched his gut. An intense kind of humour danced in the man’s blue eyes. Andrew crossed his arms across the chest, almost as a protection.

“Hello Andrew,” he said. An imperceptible pause later, he introduced himself, “I’m Neil. This is Matt. We have your supplies.”

Matt jumped into the water. It came just below his waist. Redhead- Neil- stayed in the boat, pulling wooden crates. Matt waded towards him with some papers held above his head.

“Why don’t I remember you?” Andrew cut to the chase. The question was to both, but his gaze was fixed on Neil and the flexing muscles of his shoulder. What the hell?

“How would we know? Maybe you have shitty memory,” Neil spoke, the same intense humor in his inflection as well. Matt stopped and cast a worried look towards Andrew. Yup, these people knew him for sure. Panic started stemming at the base of his spine. He realised two things.

  1. There was something he was forgetting regularly.
  2. He could guess why he was transfixed by Redhead Neil’s flexing shoulders but he absolutely hated the answer. 



“Sorry about him,” Matt said and handed him papers. They were stamped with his nation’s Royal Stamp. So they did come from his home. He saw the list of supplies, everything was in order. He signed it.

“You two come every month and I don’t remember it?” He asked again, just to confirm. 

“No. Well… You sometimes do. Sometimes you don’t. We can’t figure out what causes it.” Matt looked like he was pitying him. Andrew was going to punch him. “Don’t worry about the payment though, it’s taken care of.”

He wanted to ask who took care of it. He wanted to ask after his mother, his neighbour, literally anybody in his city. But he felt, on some level, he felt it in his guts that he won’t remember it tomorrow and it hurt him. He was surprised by the ‘we’ used by Matt. These apparent strangers. It hurt him knowing this was what his mother had subjected him to. It hurt knowing he had accepted it. It hurt knowing he deserv- He started seeing white at the edge of his vision before something colourful flashed in front of him.

“Hey,” Neil waved his arm in front of him. Andrew’s eyes snapped up and focused on the figure in front of him. Neil searched his face for a bit and satisfied with whatever he found he gestured back to the crates. “Where do you want these?”

“The Parlour would do fine.”

“Better start on them then. Rather too many of them in my opinion, considering you’re the only one on this whole forsaken rock. Right?”

“If I  _ remember  _ correctly, I saw unloading charges on the sheet. Time to earn your fucking wages. The Parlour would do fine.” Andrew shot back. Neil, the maniac, just laughed and shook his head as he turned to pick up a crate. 

Matt and Neil both hauled each crate one by one as Andrew stood on his spot and saw them. Matt was conversing with Neil about people he didn’t know. Neil answered back, his answers more cutting and sarcastic. 

“How long have you two been coming?” Andrew asked.

“Neil’s recent, been only 2 years. I’ve been since 9 years. You- ah”

“What?” Andrew asked, despite his better judgement.

“You gave me a Physician's Address in the Upper districts the second time I came. To help with my problem,” Matt was brimming with gratification. Andrew assumed he gave him Madame Dobson’s address. And Andrew didn’t remember. The panic that was beginning to roar again was quietened by Neil saying to Matt, 

“Get the anchor out, I’ll get the last crate. It’s quite heavy. Andrew, would you give me a hand?”

“Why should I?”

“Pl- You don’t want me to drop your precious whiskey halfway, do you?”

Andrew sighed heavily and walked with him to the dock. The crate was quite heavy and they both waddled in the parlour with some huffing and puffing. Half of the room was packed now. It was going to take a while to unload them. 

Neil stood for a moment, catching his breath. “Here,” he pulled a leather bound book out of his jacket. “Write today down.”

“I don’t think that's in the list.”

“Who would you complain to?”

“This looks expensive.”

“That’s half my month’s wages. But won’t mean much to you, rich boy.”

Andrew grabbed the hand that offered the book, “What exactly do you know about me?”

Neil did a small sharp intake of breath. “Only myths and stories. Only you can tell the truth. But you won’t until you trust me. And you can’t until you remember me. Hence, half my month’s wages.”

“It doesn’t bide well to be so curious, cat.”

“I know you’re curious too.” He smiled. His teeth were pretty good for a dock worker. His left incisor pressed into his lower lip as he smiled. Andrew wanted to feel that indent. 

Disgusted with himself, Andrew couldn’t figure out why his body was reacting like that. After everything, why this?

“You know nothing!” Andrew tightened his grip and seeing a flicker of pain in Neil’s eyes, he let go viciously. “Get out.”

Neil took a step back and walked away without a word. Andrew turned away from him as well and broke the last crate’s top. He pulled out a bottle and walked into the kitchen, ready to drink himself to oblivion till night fell. But before he sat down, he scratched a notch. 29 more to go.

...

He was dreaming. The sea, roaring and foaming had turned red. Something was churning in the belly of the sea and Andrew was deeply afraid of it. There was a deep whirlpool forming in front of his eyes, sucking everything around. The metallic smell of blood permeated the cold biting winds. Any moment now, Andrew was watching the swirling waves with a dreaded anticipation. 

Any moment.

He woke up. The dawn was dark. A chill ran up his spine and he clutched his cloak tighter around him. All of his senses were muddled, his surroundings dark, his face numb, the deafening roar of sea in his ears and the bitter taste of whiskey on his tongue. The foul smell of the outhouse wafted his way with the wind. He felt a sense of deja vu.

He fumbled his way through the crowded parlour and made his way to the front door, grabbing the lantern on the table besides the door. Instead his hand touched something flat and leathery. 

Neil had left the book by the door.

Andrew remembered him. He remembered yesterday. He opened the diary. It was beautiful, thick blank pages inside, neatly bound, waiting for Andrew to record his memories before they slipped through his consciousness like raindrops on the windowpane. 

There was something written on the first page.

_ “This Diary was given to Andrew No-Last-Name, Keeper of the lighthouse, by Neil Josten, the red haired delivery boy who comes on 3rd of every month. Neil would like Andrew to keep writing any pertinent events or details of the delivery day because Neil suspects Andrew is made to forget them.  _

_ Andrew has known Neil for 2 years on the above mentioned date and they go along splendidly! Well, as splendidly as Neil suspects Andrew has ever gotten along with anyone. Neil would like to continue this splendid acquaintance and spare the unnecessary drama of reintroduction every time Andrew forgets.” _

Below it was a fairly accurate sketch of Neil and a smaller one of Matt, labeled as the ‘other delivery guy’. __

Andrew stared at the caricature of Neil’s face. Even through the rough lines, Andrew could picture the face in his mind. The startling intensity of it. And to think he would forget it any moment, without a warning. Despair washed over him. But he decided to deal with it later; he had a bigger demon to face at the moment.

…

The next time supply delivery came, Andrew remembered it. He wrote in the book a few times. He had new material for his nightmares now, constantly worried that he would wake up and again forget his regular visitors. Andrew couldn’t tell why exactly he was afraid of it. Was he worried because this just was one more thing in his life he had lost control over? Or was it because it didn’t want to forget the friendly face of Matt and the mysterious Neil?

Hence he wrote every time he woke up from those particular bad dreams. It was maybe not what Neil had wanted, but why should Andrew listen to him anyways?

He was standing on the dock. The boat came into view. Matt waved his giant arm in greeting. They neared and Neil stood up to tie the boat. Andrew noticed the scars on his arms and hands, despite the colorful tattoos. 

“What’s the longest I’ve gone without forgetting?” He asked instead of greeting.

“Hey, you remember us?” Matt smiled. “You used to remember when I used to come initially. We first noticed you forgot in my fifth year, when me and Renee used to come. You remember her?”

Andrew was surprised to find out that yes, yes he did remember the platinum haired and super buff lady. But vaguely and only when Matt mentioned her. He nodded.

“Ah great! Yeah... So you just forgot. Then you would remember the next time we came around. It was brutal, the first time you forgot. But I think it’s gotten easier over the years? Or maybe I’ve gotten used to it. You react the same all the time.” Matt was speaking easily. It probably wasn't the first time he was answering the question. 

“It’s been happening frequently in the last two years though. The longest you’ve remembered before was a year. Nowadays, maximum 5 months.”

“Last two years?”

“Since I started to come, yes. We’ve discussed that.” Neil pitched in, who was so far busying himself with the crates. Andrew looked at Matt for confirmation, but Matt just had a vaguely pitying look on his face. 

This was all Andrew could take.

He turned around. “You know where to put those.”


	3. Haunted by Made Up Schemes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANGSTTTT

As they were getting finished unloading, Neil sent Matt to the boat with one reason or another and lingered behind. Matt sent him a look that said, ‘you’re playing with fire.’

As if Neil didn’t know it. Neil had been playing with fires far more dangerous than Andrew all his life. Or more accurately, he’d been running away from them. Even when he originally took up this delivery job on the Palmetto docks, he’d been on the run. 

But then he’d stayed for two years. All for the sullen figure in front of him that didn’t remember him.

“You wrote in the diary?” Neil followed Andrew to the shack’s door.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

Neil sighed. “I don’t exactly know how this works but it seems that when you retain memories of us, you don’t gain all the memories you’ve ever lost. It’s like your slate just stops wiping itself. But I don’t know, when you said you remembered Renee, it gave me a little hope that you remember more. Clearly I was wrong.”

“What is it that I’ve forgotten that you’re so keen on making me recall?” Andrew took an unconscious step near him. Neil yearned to reach out. 

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to tell you. You have no way of knowing if I’m telling the truth.”

Andrew’s face did something funny. 

“I wrote my nightmares.” He finally answered.

“Will you write today?” Neil decided to not pursue the hundred questions that came in his mind with Andrew’s answer. All he needed to make sure was that Andrew kept remembering. 

“There’s nothing to write. What do you want me to write? Every day is the same here. Nothing ever changes.” Andrew laughed bitterly as he pulled his arms around him. The sun was going down. One could tell despite it being behind the cloud cover on the horizon by the increasing chill.

Neil didn’t have much time left. He could hear Matt’s faint whistle, a code between them. 

“How would you know that unless you write?” 

Neil turned to leave. Wymack was going to be pissed that they stayed so long. 

Andrew didn’t reply. 

He didn’t come out as they unmoored the boat and started to leave.

Matt, as usual, was sitting with his back to the lighthouse so Neil would get the side facing the tiny island. It was more of a rock outcrop in the middle of the ocean than an island. Neil trained his eyes on the tiny hut as he started paddling. He saw a figure come out and go towards the lighthouse. They had never stayed so late that it would be the sundown. A few moments later, a beam came out of the lighthouse, the only visible part. 

“Seth won the pot. Andrew remembered,” Matt said carefully. He was hedging Neil’s reaction. Neil didn’t reply. In fact he didn’t say anything as they reached the dock, as Wymack yelled at them for being late, as Seth came bounding to ask after his money, as he read Renee’s note saying she’ll be unable to come tomorrow to get an update, as they went to the pub and ate their meagre dinner. All the way till it was midnight and Matt was leaving to meet his dancer girlfriend Henessey.

“I’m going to visit Madame Dobson again tomorrow.”

Matt sighed. “What new knowledge could she suddenly acquire since last month when you visited her? She already told us there’s no noble family who claims a lost or banished son that matches Andrew’s description and certainly not age. And we started looking at the noble houses at your insistence.”

“Of course Andrew’s noble. Have you heard how he speaks? Have you seen the monthly bill of delivery?”

“The guy’s been there for 10 years, Neil! What noble family lets go of their 15 year old son and never reports him missing? And he’s cursed! Him, the lighthouse, the whole island is enchanted! Henessey agrees.”

It was an old argument between the two, but Neil just let him rant. If it relieved Matt’s frustration with him, then why not? Literally everyone was afraid of the strange man living in the middle of the ocean, claiming something paranormal with him, even before he magically started forgetting the regular delivery people. Which was how Neil had gotten the job. It was around the time he had ended up at the Palmetto docks, looking for a temporary job while hiding from his father’s mercenaries. Renee, his precursor, was probably the only other dock person who was not afraid but she had to leave the job because she had found her family and she was going to live with them. 

Wymack, their business owner, was getting desperate as no other dock worker or sailor would accept the job, all of them a superstitious bunch, and in walked the oblivious Neil who had no knowledge of the existing fear and had readily accepted the job.

And then he met the mythical monster in question- a five foot blond lighthouse keeper of his age, living alone on the island. Who had a sharp wit and an inquisitive mind. He was the one who on the second meeting had asked what Neil was running from. He had recognised Neil’s affluent background from his speech pattern, which in turn was how Neil realised Andrew was from a noble house as well. 

“It’s something those overpaid tutors drill in your speech,” Andrew had drily remarked. 

Andrew never asked anything outright. 

He just hinted that he knew, he’d make remarks and never force Neil to divulge more. It was as if he found Neil’s precarious position as a dock worker hilarious. 

“Isn’t it amusing? You’re working at a dock and you’re quite new at it but you know your ropes. Perhaps only theoretically. But you know them. You have a maritime background. Perhaps a sea trader family? But you’re running from them. And yet, you have to keep working on the docks and shores because you know nothing else.”

Neil had been paralysed with fear when Andrew had spoken. His colored history went deeper and bloodier than Andrew was guessing but he was uncomfortably close to the truth.

But then Neil had realised that Andrew was as stuck, perhaps more, as he was. 

And then he became obsessed with finding out Andrew’s secret. But even between Matt who knew him the longest, Renee who knew him the best, Madam Dobson who knew him the oldest and Neil, who had the most curiosity, they couldn’t find much on him. 

Matt told them he had been there for 10 years, Renee figured out he was cursed and Madam Dobson, when they eventually approached her (at Neil’s houndlike insistence) confirmed Neil’s assumption that Andrew was from Noble house. 

“I remember Andrew but ever so vaguely. It was years ago.”

As kind as Madame Dobson was and eager to help out, to Neil, she had proved to be pretty useless. Plus she also prodded him to get his scars repaired with her legendary herbal paste which he steadfastly ignored. He didn’t trust her much. A rich, kind hearted potioneer living in the upper district yet willing to help out some scruffy dock workers? Whoever heard of such things?

Slideshow of such snippets of memories slid in front of Neil’s eyes, as he lied on his sleeping mat in the small quarters he shared with Matt. He only needed to figure out the curse that was keeping Andrew on the island. He only ever needed to free Andrew of whatever influence that was on him. He had asked him if he ever tried to leave and Andrew looked at him as if he grew two heads, as if that was an impossibility not even worth considering. 

Whatever he was cursed with, it definitely worked hard to keep him there and never let him leave. Perhaps that’s why he forgot things sometimes, so he may never be tempted to leave…

But what could’ve triggered such temptation? 

Neil sat up suddenly. 

It made a lot of sense. It explained the very erratic memory loss Andrew suffered. It did not have any fixed medical pattern because it happened whenever Andrew obviously felt tempted to leave. And of course, how could anyone predict when Andrew would feel like leaving? When would he feel pained enough, hurt enough, suffered enough that he may entertain the mere thoughts?

...

“Perhaps it’s not the suffering,” Madame Dobson said the next day when he revealed his latest theory to her. Wymack allowed both Matt and Neil a morning off after their delivery to the lighthouse. It was initially a perk to stick with the job. But it stuck, even as Matt and Neil became slightly friendly with the mythical lighthouse monster. Taking full advantage however, Matt always spent the night and the morning with Henessey. And Neil used the free morning to often relay the information about Andrew to Renee or Madame Dobson.

Which was where he was now, at Madame Dobson’s offices in the upper district, wearing his best clothes. He escaped his father permanently some months ago due to a blessed accident but he never felt comfortable walking in the affluent parts of the city, no matter nobody knew him here. 

“Why else would he be tempted?” Neil asked with slight irritation in his voice. “People run when survival becomes imminent.” 

“People run,” Madame Dobson said as she measured some powder carefully in front of him, “When they have a hope to survive. Especially people who have been suffering for as long as he has.”

Neil bristled. He certainly did not escape his father because he had anything to look forward to outside. He ran because he witnessed his father kill his mother at the age of 18 and realised that he was next. But he was definitely not about to tell all that to Madame Dobson, whose acquaintance he only tolerated for Andrew.

She looked up from the measuring scale. “You don’t agree.”

Neil swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue. “It doesn’t make much sense,” he said in a careful, polite tone. “What hope can he suddenly visualise?”

“Maybe search within what he’s forgetting, to understand what gave him hope in the first place.” She poured the powder in a satisfying srrrr sound in an empty glass vial. 

Neil watched it, mesmerised. He recalled the visit three months ago. Andrew hadn’t forgotten for three months. They were the oddest months. In the beginning when he would forget, Matt had just asked Neil to be considerate and not to question anything or upset him in any way. But he was getting to know Andrew more and more and he couldn’t understand how Matt could just stand by and let him forget. How could he bear to see the blank stare suddenly when the last time they met he had even cracked a smile?

How could Matt bear seeing Andrew made stranger to them? 

Only three months ago Andrew had confessed that he wanted to bare the truth to Neil. Only three months ago, Andrew had given indication that he trusted Neil enough that he felt he could tell Neil his deepest darkest secret. The only reason he was holding back was that Andrew was afraid he would forget ever having told Neil. And he couldn’t imagine his secret being out there and not knowing it. 

In fact, Andrew had panicked a little, and in an uncharacteristic display of emotion, clasped Neil’s shoulders and asked him to confess if he had told the truth already. 

Neil had had to swear on his dead mother. 

And that was when he decided Andrew needed to record the meetings. 

Quite rightly so because the very next meeting, Andrew had forgotten. Neil combed the memories. What could’ve been so pertinent in their parting that Andrew felt hopeful?

Was it the fact that Andrew had decided he would like to confess the secret to Neil? But he had decided that before the meeting. And besides Andrew had merely expressed a desire to confess but there was no actual willingness to. Was it the fact that Neil was going to bring him the diary? Was it enough to make Andrew forget and prove Madame Dobson’s theory?

He wished he remembered far back enough to compare the other instances of Andrew forgetting. But he hadn’t paid attention then, accepting Andrew’s lapse as something natural and without cause. 

Neil kept thinking on his whole way back, for once the paranoia taking a backseat. 

…

The next month they took the delivery to Andrew, he was waiting for them, as usual on the small dock. He looked rougher than usual. Neil felt something warm under his ribs. Matt waved carefully to gauge whether Andrew remembered them but Neil knew he did. His flat stare was fixed on Neil but his mouth was tight. People often talked about how expressive the eyes are, the windows to the soul, a whole lot of poetry about them he had read in his school. 

But it was the mouth. It was the hard jaw. It was the bare quirk at the corner of his lips. It was the tiny tip of his tongue pressed between his teeth. It was the soft exhale of breath he let out when something amused him. 

Andrew was the slow acting poison working on Neil for the last two years and Neil felt like he would implode any moment.

Besides confirming he still remembered them and signing the delivery sheet, Andrew did not speak any further. His silence did not bother Neil, who had to read it. Andrew definitely had something to say. When they were done unloading the boxes, as usual, Neil sent Matt back to the boat. 

…

Andrew leaned against the door of the cottage as he watched Neil pick up the last crate and make his way to him. All of a sudden it struck Andrew that Neil would leave soon. He would not see him for 30 more days, if at all he remembered him. Something twisted in Andrew’s heart. It was better to have forgotten, he bitterly thought to himself, rather than live in this constant fear of forgetting. He was tired of the nightmares he often got in which he was standing in front of Neil but it was Neil in the dreams that did not recognise him.

Andrew remembered a fable he had learned a long time ago, in another life, of a beggar. A beggar who suddenly comes across a bag of gold left in the streets, who starves to death in a week. The sudden windfall makes the beggar so afraid of losing it, he couldn’t spend it. 

The way his tutor had taught it, it was supposed to be a moral about the suddenly gained fortunes that never last or something about hard work. But Andrew couldn't help but visualise the beggar, paranoid and stricken with fear, unable to even beg for food as he had his whole life, slowly wasting away. 

“Did your tutor ever tell you a story of a beggar?” Andrew said without any preamble as Neil deposited the crate. As Neil shook his head, Andrew regaled the story to him in his flattest voice, curious to see what Neil thought of it. 

Neil let out a soft breath. “Not where I thought this was going.”

“Story?”

Neil shrugged. He looked up at Andrew who had barely moved from the door. It was dizzying to see Neil in his shack from the doorway. It felt too much like coming home. 

“I am not wasting my life away for you.” Neil said in a quiet voice but every word of it was firm.

“What?” 

Neil took a step towards him, “I am not the beggar, clutching you to myself, unable to let go. I am trying. I’m trying to free you.”

Andrew laughed out loud. So loud that Neil was taken aback. 

“I was talking about myself, Josten. I’m the beggar who found something he shouldn’t have, something he didn’t deserve, something he had no idea what to do with.” His low voice took a hard note. “But I refuse to waste away. You… your presence, that diary, the memories. I don’t want it anymore. Take it away and don’t ever come back.” 

Andrew walked inside to where he kept his diary between the thin cushions of the sofa. 

Neil shook his head even as Andrew was talking. “Stop, Andrew.”

“No. I’m done. I’m done. I don’t know how many times I have gotten my hopes raised in the past. Hopes of you, hopes of the world outside. But I’m making a decision right now and you are my witness.” He pulled the diary out and hesitated for a moment. 

Andrew was aware he was giving up. Neil would probably never come back after this, he needed to make sure Neil would never come back.

“Madame Dobson was right,” Neil said.

Snapped out of his thoughts, Andrew looked up. “What?”

“I know why you forget.” Neil pressed on. A complicated mixture of joy, relief, and hurt passed over his face. 

The diary slipped out of Andrew’s hands.

Neil walked towards him and picked the diary up. “You’re tied to this place, Andrew. The curse upon you does not want to let you leave. Which is why whenever an ember of hope flares inside you, you’re made to forget it.”

Neil’s words echoed like a strong eastern wind in his hollowed mind. And his mind immediately rejected them.

“I’m not tied to this place, Neil. I’m not the one who’s cursed. I- You’re wrong.” Andrew crossed his arms. A hysterical chill passed through him. Neil couldn’t have been more wrong. He was just the gatekeeper, he-

“What do you mean you’re not cursed? You’ve been banished on this rock for the past 10 years and will probably be here for your whole life. Don’t tell me you’re actually just a lighthouse keeper employed at an exceptionally young age.” 

Andrew had to laugh again. Neil’s face was alight with concern and righteous anger, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Yes, Andrew felt like he was stuck on this island outside of time and space sometimes. But that was just a fleeting emotion, a drudgery. How would he tell Neil that he had a solemn duty? He was not the one doomed, he was the one taking care of the doomed one. 

But Neil did look worried so he picked and chose his next words. “Thank you for your excellent concern, Josten. But it is not a curse. It’s a duty. I have made a promise to take care of- of the lighthouse. You on the other hand, are a distraction. A pipe dream.”

“Andrew-”

Andrew grasped Neil’s chin, halting the words. He mapped every single detail of his face and committed to his memory.

“I will remember you, Neil Josten. Come hail or high water, I will remember you, if only to warn myself to never look at you again.”

Neil was close enough to feel his breath and he did indeed feel it. The stuttered breath he exhaled said more than words ever could. Andrew released his chin and put that hand on the diary clutched in Neil’s hands. He felt the scars on his knuckles. 

“In return, you keep this. I won’t need it anymore. But I suggest getting rid of it as soon as possible. It’s just nightmares in there.”


	4. Breathing Out My Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light warning for some nightmare descriptions

As Neil sat in the boat, numbly paddling away, all that was inside him was scraped out hollow. Matt had pretended not to notice when Neil exited the shack like a ghost, clutching onto the diary. He only asked if they should go and once Neil assented, he calmly unmoored. The usual winds of the sea had died down too. It was too quiet, too quiet to drown out the blood roaring in Neil’s skull.

Andrew had basically told him to never come back. Worse, he made it sound like Neil did not need to come and help because there was nothing to be helped. 

Was Andrew truly not cursed? Neil began to doubt himself. 

As they reached the shore, the beam shone from the lighthouse. Matt cleared his throat and asked.

“Neil?”

“I’m fine, Matt.”

A sigh as loud as a ship horn was heard from Matt but Matt didn’t press. It was one of the rare occasions where Matt didn’t push Neil to share more. Who knew what made him not to? Neil wondered briefly if only for a future reference. They reported themselves to Wymack who just glanced up to see that they had all of their limbs and dismissed them.

Matt began walking towards their local pub but Neil excused himself to go to their quarters. He made his way to the alley where they lived and climbed up the rickety stairs to their room. Well, he must have because he was suddenly in his bedroom but he was absolutely lost as to when he walked. 

He took out the diary from inside his shirt and placed it carefully on his bed. Then he changed out of his work clothes, wiped himself down with a damp rag and donned fresh clothes. Hygiene was a choice and luxury when you worked on the docks but Neil went through the motions methodically, determined to give his whole attention. He knew instinctively he was not going to sleep tonight. Sleep, rest, too felt like a luxury. So he made himself as comfortable as he could and sat down on his bedding. And then he spent the next two hours biting his nails and staring at Andrew’s diary.

He couldn’t read it. He shouldn’t. 

He was not going to.

It was good that he had the next morning off because as he predicted, he was up all night, staring at the diary.

Two years, two years he had spent on the docks, worried his father would find him, worried somebody would recognise the Wesninski features, worried Wymack would tell him to leave. But against all the instincts, he had stayed. At first to replenish some savings but then for the lighthouse keeper that lived on the rock in the middle of the sea. Then for the small family he built himself with Matt and Henessey and Renee and Seth. 

And then his father died in an unfortunate accident. He heard rumors that the family business was snatched and absorbed by some rivals but Neil couldn’t seek more information. All he knew was that he was free. He had been free for a few months. He should’ve left immediately, when the news of the death of Nathaniel Wesninski, the semi famous sea merchant was making rounds. 

Those were dangerous times. Neil had spent those days almost exclusively with his hair under cover and face half hidden. ‘Bouts of cold, don’t want it to spread’ he had said. He had risked his life. For what?

Andrew said he wasn’t cursed. He was staying by his choice. Perhaps he shouldn’t. Perhaps he was miserable in his job that made him suffer memory loss sometimes. But who was Neil to rescue him? What was there for Andrew back on the shore?

But then again what was there for Andrew on the island?

Dawn broke and Neil’s brain decided to shut down, taking pity on him. 

…

Renee met him for lunch. Neil told her heavily edited version of what happened- that Andrew decided he didn’t want to be saved, that he basically told Neil to never come back again.

“That reminds me, I need to submit my resignation to Wymack.”

Renee raised her eyebrows. She looked out of place in the dingy pub. They were in one of the less crowded pubs in the back streets. The food wasn’t as good but most of the dock workers preferred the ones nearer to shore and the travelers went for the nicer ones further in the city. They were in a sad middle and Renee, with her simple but expensive clothes and ash white hair stood out like a bright diamond.

Neil shrugged. “I don’t do many jobs on the ships, I most exclusively work on docks. Andrew’s was the only job I took that involved me getting on a floating device. That job is the sole reason Wymack keeps me around, I’m pretty useless otherwise.”

Renee didn’t say anything to the contrary but her face clearly said she disagreed. 

“I can help you find some work in the city. You can be a runner or something for my mother’s circulars.” 

Renee worked on the docks from a young age but she ended up saving a noble woman’s life at risk of her own once. That noblewoman, Stephanie Walker ended up adopting Renee. Now Renee spent her time getting lessons she missed as a child from another young noblewoman named Allison Reynolds. But she still found time to keep abreast of Andrew’s news. 

It took a while for Neil to trust her, but she slowly chipped at him. It was through her he first learned of his father’s demise. Madame Walker had a lucrative business of dealing in information. She sent out periodicals and circulars of all pertinent events. Less Acta Diurna and more single page circulars whenever news presented itself. 

Neil nodded absently, wondering if he should tell her of the diary. 

“I guess I will have to take these lunches with Matt now,” Renee lightly teased. “Now that you’re leaving the job. Are you sure about it? What if Andrew forgets all this by the next month?”

Neil shook his head. He had thought of that and decided sometime last night that it didn’t matter. 

“Andrew asked me to not come. I’m going to respect his wishes.” Andrew’s hazel gaze as he said, ‘I will remember you’ flashed in front of his eyes. 

They finished the lunch with lighter discussions of happenings around them. Neil predicted Matt was going to propose Henessey soon; Renee talked about her snobby but whip smart tutor who sometimes tested her unshakeable patience. 

As they left the pub, Renee took his hand and pressed it. “Come see me tomorrow evening if you decide to leave your job. I will introduce you to my mother.”

“Thank you, Renee. I don’t know how to repay you,” Neil said sincerely. 

“I guarantee nothing, Josten. My mother has the ultimate authority.” Renee let go of his hand and they began walking. 

…

In the end, things were easier than Neil anticipated. Wymack didn’t fuss as much when Neil said he was leaving the job. He only asked if anything had happened on the lighthouse island and when Neil shook his head, he sighed in relief. 

Matt cried when Neil announced the news but he was also pretty drunk at the time. Henessey- well her real name was Danielle, but she insisted they call her Henessey- was there to soothe him. She sat beside him, running a comforting hand on his back as he half laid in her lap but also hiding her smile.

“Why you have to go man? Who will be my best man now?” Matt wailed some more and Henessey froze. 

“Excuse me?” She asked and Matt hiccupped in realisation. He scrambled to sit up straight and get down on one knee. Henessey’s dancer friends gathered to see what was going on and Neil thought it was best he left. 

Matt would definitely give him minute by minute tomorrow. 

The next evening, Neil went to meet Madame Walker and she hired him on spot. She frowned at the colourful tattoos on his arms but other than advising him to wear long sleeves at all times, she didn’t say anything else. And that was a given anyway. She gave him the dual job of delivering the papers in certain sections of the city but also keeping an eye out for things happening. Neil was happy with the change in pace. He got to stretch his ‘blending in the crowd’ skills, this time without the added threat of death. 

The diary remained deep inside Neil’s luggage. 

Neil was given the more affluent sections of the city. His accent had roughened in the last two years but he easily shed it to his more polished tones of former life. He got to know many noble houses and every time he saw a blonde head or hazel eyes, he did a double take to check for more resemblance. He visited Madame Dobson again but besides congratulations on his new job, she couldn’t offer anything new. Neil couldn’t say if he was sad or relieved. 

He didn’t much think of Andrew directly but in the back of his mind, he was counting down days till the next month’s delivery. Wymack had doubled Matt’s salary for delivering to Andrew alone, he couldn’t find anyone on such short notice. Matt pretended to hem and haw but Wymack and Matt both knew it was just a front.

The third of next month rolled around and Neil woke up with a nauseated stomach. He begged a day off and went back to his rooms to curl into some rest. Matt asked if he needed any medicine but Neil knew it was less of a physical malady and more nerves.

In the last month, despite the infrequent nature of Madame Walker’s business, he had made sure to keep himself constantly busy. But on the day that mattered most, he found himself without any occupation. He sat up, his thoughts inevitably veering to the diary. 

He was weak. He was terribly missing Andrew. He dug out the diary.

He started from the page last filled. The diary was almost halfway full. Neil was surprised he had written this much. ‘It’s just nightmares in there’, Andrew’s voice reverberated in his head.

With his heart in his throat, he began reading. 

The nausea in his stomach did not make it an easy reading. The entries were undated, abstract, yet surprisingly vividly detailed, most of them related to the sea. Stormy sea, sea as calm as glass, sea with waves touching the sky, sea with blood red water, deep whirlpools like gates of the underworld.

Some had Neil in them. Always in the distance like a spectre. Never once interacting with Andrew. 

Some had an unnamed entity, referred to as ‘he’. Another entity referred to as ‘it’. ‘It’ often trapped Andrew under his palm. 

There was one particular dream that repeated sometimes. In it, Andrew is standing on the docks, looking at the horizon. Neil comes, alone, on the boat. But as he nears, he sails past the island, never acknowledging Andrew. Andrew calls after him. But Neil never hears. And then Andrew turns around and runs to the lighthouse. He climbs the ladder and reaches the top. And then he jumps inside.

Neil took a shuddering breath to give himself a pause. ‘He made his choice,’ he reminded himself and soldiered on, even though his heart was wrenching itself apart. Now that he started, he couldn’t stop.

There were also sketches on the margins, rough drawings of the lighthouse, of ships in the distance, birds in the sky, some nonsensical patterns like insignia of some kind.

He went all the way to the beginning, to the page where he had written that note a few months ago. Well, almost. He couldn't bear to see his own handwriting again. And the stupid note he had written. With so much confidence he had given the diary to Andrew, asking him to remember him. Record him so he may never forget. 

And hadn’t Neil gotten what he wanted? He still felt the phantom touch of Andrew’s hand on his chin and the low voice in which he had said, “I will remember you, if only to warn myself to never look at you again.”

With a sigh Neil put the diary aside. He didn’t necessarily feel better, but something in him settled. Perhaps he would never see Andrew again, but he had something to remember him by. It was a terrible memento, a diary full of nightmares. But it was startlingly intimate. It was better than nothing. 

Matt came early. He looked more tired than usual, stretched thin. Neil was sitting on his bed, back to the wall, staring at Matt. Daring him to tell him about Andrew.

“He still remembers,” Matt said eventually. Neil looked away. They lived relatively closer to the shore. He could imagine the periodic lighthouse beam on the eastern horizon. Andrew was there. 

Sunset. The lighthouse beacon. Andrew. Three truths that existed without contention.


	5. All The Treacheries

Madame Walker asked after his health when he went to report next morning. He gave a non committal answer and took his daily tasks and left. After a month of working there diligently, Madame Walker trusted him enough to reveal the true nature of her more shadowed business. She ran the most secure and undetected courier service, clients ranging from the royalty to the shadiest tradesmen. She had begun giving him some less important delivery tasks.

He was in the middle of delivering a parcel when one of the other runner boys he recognised signalled at him.

“Madame Walker has recalled all of her runners. Some important news is undergoing and she’s gonna require everybody if she’s to report first,” he whispered and they both made their way back to Walker Residence. 

In the courtyard behind the residence, all the runner boys were assembled. Most were milling about, gossiping among themselves what could the news be. 

Suddenly The Bell from the palace- the one used to announce the death of someone important- rang. As if that was the signal, Madame Walker came out on the balcony on the first floor and simultaneously, the back doors opened. Two people came out with stacks of one page circulars.

“First order of importance- deliver these papers. Prices are the same as usual. Lower districts- 4 pennies, Upper districts- 6 pennies. Inner ring- 9 pennies” Madame Walker instructed from above. 

“She probably had them made ready since the afternoon,” the runner boy standing to Neil’s left spoke. 

Stacks were distributed in orderly manner and within minutes, the runner boys scrammed to their respective sectors like well oiled machines. 

It was barely the sundown, yet by the time stars started shining, the news was reaching all the regular paying and some non regular paying residents of the city.

Some Madame Cassandra Spear had died after a long illness. She was a prominent noblewoman who was rumoured to have delved into magicks. She had also lost all her family a decade ago and now left her significant fortunes behind without a claimant, a tragic and mysterious figure all around.

Neil read the information at leisure, once the rush died down. They would raise her house colours on half mast at midnight, as was the custom. It was material that would provide gossip for days to come. And that meant extra duties in the coming days.

Neil resumed the delivery of his parcels that was interrupted by the evening news. Thankfully, nothing was time sensitive, but by the time he was done, midnight had rolled around. Neil was dead on his feet, but now he had the whole trek back to his quarters. For a brief moment, he considered just sleeping on one of the benches, just for a while. But Matt would be worried.

He had to move out soon. Matt was planning his wedding in full force and it was unlikely he was going to wait long to get married. Neil needed to find a place of his own sooner than later. Perhaps it’s better if he left altogether. Neil’s head was filled with thoughts when he casually looked up to the west, where the Palace of the City Officials sat. Theirs wasn’t a capital city but it had a similar tiered structure so the City Official’s palace was on the highest peak. The flag was pulled down to the half mast and along it another flag, deep green in colour was flying. 

Neil did not know Madame Spear, she must’ve been residing in the inner circles. Based on the urgency with which Madame Walker delivered the news, she had to have been someone very important. So Neil stood for a moment, to pay respect. The golden insignia of the now heirless Spear House shone brightly against the deep green of the house colour. 

Wait a minute, Neil had seen the insignia before. With a jolt, he realised, it was the same insignia Andrew had drawn in his diary.

With a sudden burst of energy, Neil ran back home. Matt woke up from his sleep as Neil charged in, rummaging through his luggage. He dug the diary out and with almost shaking fingers, he flipped through the pages.

“What’s going on?” Matt asked, his voice still laden with sleep.

Neil couldn’t keep it to himself. “I figured out Andrew’s family.” He found the page. There it was, in the margins- the Spear House Insignia. It seemed like such a feeble connection, but Neil had something and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t see it through.

Matt rushed to him. “What are you saying, what is this?”

“It’s Andrew’s- Andrew gave it to me. Look at the sketches in the margin. That’s the same insignia that’s on the flag.”

“What flag?”

Neil sighed and informed him of the evening news. Matt gasped, “Are you saying Andrew’s only living relative is dead?”

Neil paused. That was true. “We need to find out everything.” He said with steely determination. 

“Now? It’s well past midnight. We’ll go tomorrow. Well, not tomorrow, ‘Delamira’ is arriving at noon, the day after?”

Delamira, Neil knew, was one of the biggest trading ships their port saw. The docks were going to be crazy tomorrow. But Neil felt an itch under his skin. He couldn’t wait. 

“I’m sorry, Matt. But I’m going now.”

Without waiting for a reply, Neil picked the diary up and took off. There were guards patrolling the streets who would’ve definitely stopped him, but the perk of being a runner boy was that he knew many back alleys and shortcuts. 

Within no time he reached Madame Walker’s residence. He avoided the guarded front gate and jumped in from a side wall. Luckily for him, a scullery maid was out smoking against the wall, leaving the back door open. Madame Walker had a strict no smoking policy because of the nature of her paper heavy business. He distracted her and slipped inside. Taking educated guesses, he found Renee’s room on the third floor. It also helped that her door had a fancy plaque that said ‘Renee’.

Remembering his manners, he knocked on the door. A second later, the door opened fractionally, no one appearing in the crack.

“Yes?” Renee’s careful voice spoke from behind the door.

“Renee, it’s Neil. I-”

The door opened fully, revealing Renee in night clothes and with a knife in her hand. Looking at him, she hastily put the knife behind her back. Neil averted his eyes to give her some space. He’d definitely seen women with lesser clothes but it felt wrong with her.

“What happened, are you alright?” Renee let him come inside and closed the door behind him. 

“I found out about Andrew’s family, Renee. Look,” Neil showed her the diary, specifically the page he had thumbed that had the insignia. 

Renee recognised the pattern, “That’s Madame Spear’s house sign. Where did you find this, Neil? Is this the diary you said you were going to give Andrew?”

Neil hesitated. “Remember last month when I told you about Andrew asking me not to come back? He- he gave me back the diary.” Neil was afraid she would ask him to explain why he read it. But she didn’t.

“Is there anything else in there that might allude to his identity?”

“Nothing. He- he wrote about his nightmares. Nothing else. Not even our visits, which was actually why I gave him the diary in the first place,” Neil tetched.

But Renee ignored and started pacing. “I don’t remember much about Madame Spear. I know she was a generous and kind hearted lady, may she rest in peace. She was very famous for her philanthropy. Which was why when rumours about her delving in magicks began to fly about, they were dismissed soon.”

“What about her family?”

“She had two sons. I think they died decades ago. I need to confirm,” Renee flied out of her room. Neil helplessly followed her. 

She ran all the way down to the basement. Thankfully, both of them were quiet on their feet and they flew through the house silent as cats. Renee opened the heavy oak door of the room and they stepped in a dark and cold room.

“It’s the archives. Mother keeps a lot of records down here.” Renee turned around and levelled a cold stare at him. “I’m counting on your discretion here, Neil.”

“You have it,” Neil didn’t hesitate. He had no interest in state secrets. He stood near the door while Renee lit a lamp and went searching. The room was full of big shelves and cubby holes arranged in neat order. Neil felt he would get lost in there without any clear directions. 

Indeterminate amount of time passed, could've been 2 hours, could’ve been 20 minutes. He heard Renee gasp suddenly and he rushed to her. She was sitting on a small stool with a litany of papers spread in front of her. 

“Did you find anything?” Neil asked, trying to look over at the papers.

“It’s true,” she said. “Andrew is Cassandra Spear’s second son. He’s her adopted son.”

“Wha-”

“What is going on here?” A voice from the door asked. They both whirled around to see Madame Walker at the door, looking furious. “Neil? Renee?”

“Mother,” Renee stood up. “Listen to me, do you know anything about Madame Spear’s sons?”

Madame Walker looked lost at the sudden topic change. “What does that have anything to do with you two being in my archives in the middle of the night?”

“Mother please, it’s important,” Renee pleaded, her usual calm tones taking a frantic note. Thankfully, Madame Walker trusted her daughter and she walked in without stretching the issue.

“She had two sons. Her older son was a Captain of our Navy, Captain Drake Spear. She had a second adopted son, Andrew Spear. Both of them died in an accident on the seas, their bodies were never found.”

Renee and Neil looked at each other. Neil asked, “When was this?”

“Around a decade ago?” Madame Walker answered. “It was a horrible accident. There was a storm going on and their boat lost the way. Didn’t you know, Renee, that was when they erected the lighthouse? So that nobody else would ever lose their way again.”

Renee touched Neil’s shoulder and asked him permission with her eyes. Neil nodded and she spoke, “Mother, Andrew Spear is alive.”

“How do you know?” Ever the keen dealer of information, rather than expressing disbelief, Madame Walker interrogated.

“He’s the keeper of that lighthouse. Neil and I both used to deliver monthly supplies there. We were down here only to search for his family.”

Before Madame Walker could reply, Neil who had been engrossed in his own thoughts, wondered aloud. “If he’s alive, what about the brother, Drake Spear?”

“Hmm, you know I did always wonder about the circumstances. What were they doing out on the sea that night? What exactly happened? Madame Spear was notoriously tight lipped about it. We assumed it was grief. But now I wonder…” She looked deep in thought but then suddenly remembered where they were.

“As interesting as all this sounds, I must insist we continue this discussion for lighter hours. I’d appreciate if you two vacated my archives. Renee, show this young man the way out. I’ll handle the papers here.” She dismissed them and carefully began sorting the papers Renee had pulled out.

Renee walked him to the back door. Once they were alone again, Neil clutched at her shoulder.

“I think Drake’s alive and on the island. Didn’t you ever feel the supplies we delivered every month were too much for one person?”

“But we never saw anyone else on the island. And why would Drake be hidden and Andrew not?”

“Drake must’ve been better known, him being the Navy Captain and all. Andrew was what 14-15? There was no reason for the common dock person to recognise him. And they are banished on the island. Something bad must’ve happened. Didn’t people say Madame Spear dealt in magick? They definitely are cursed.”

“Of course they are cursed. Didn’t we discuss that long ago? Did something happen to change your mind?”

“I-” Neil didn’t know how to explain Andrew’s vehement denial at the idea. He had a solemn duty, Andrew had said. Andrew said- “He said he had promised to take care of the light house,” Neil mused out loud.

“What?”

“Andrew said it wasn’t a curse. He said he had voluntarily promised to stay and take care of the lighthouse and- and maybe also Drake? Which is why it’s harder for him to leave? He’s taking care of his brother there.”

“But then he keeps forgetting,” Renee reminded. “You know Neil, for Andrew to be cursed, he doesn’t have to be aware of it.”

“If he’s cursed, are you saying his mother put that curse on him?”

“It is all conjecture at this point. But if it’s true in any capacity, she’s dead now and whatever curse there is on the island, it may have lifted.”

“I need to go to him,” Neil came to the realisation. “I have to. He doesn’t want me but-”

“Go.” Renee quietly interjected. “I believe in you.”

Neil didn’t know how he could ever repay her. Her support and help and strength helped him so much in the past months. He hoped it was all shown on his face because he couldn’t find words for it the moment. Renee must’ve seen because she smiled softly and let him go.


	6. My Biggest Enemy is Right Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Drake being horrible (nothing explicit but I hated writing it because I'm weakhearted)

As Neil walked back to the shore, deep in thought about how to arrange a boat to get to the island, he kept feeling a sense of unease. Something was off, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. He’d been feeling it ever since he left his quarters with the diary. He attempted to shake it off and think about the options available to him. 

This late at night only the most desperate and shadiest of sea vessels enter the port. He was debating whether to pilfer one of Wymack’s boats or wake the man up and ask for one. There was a good chance Wymack might agree after a lot of grumbling. Neil was surprised at himself that he even considered the option however, it would not have been the case two years prior. 

The main issue he had was whether he wanted to reveal this was about Andrew to Wyamck. Wymack may not be necessarily afraid of the lighthouse keeper but would he let one of his ex employees sail a boat to him in the middle of night, all by himself?

A lot of his questions got answered at once when he reached the dock. There was a small gathering of cribbing dock workers and seamen gathered there. He spotted Wymack there and at the same time, so did Wymack. Surprise and relief flashed on the man’s face as he excused himself from the heated discussions and made his way to Neil.

Neil almost turned around and ran, but somehow he didn’t. “What is going on?”

“Didn’t you notice, boy? The light from the lighthouse is off. Went off somewhen after midnight.”

Dread filled Neil’s entire being as he glanced on the eastern horizon. That was what felt off to him. He couldn’t see the ever present beam. 

Wymack was still saying something. “-need someone to go check but nobody’s willing to-”

“I’ll go. I’m going. Give me a boat.”

…

Andrew felt something was off today. Well aside from the regularly scheduled anguish, that was. He was aware he’d been drinking more and more. His nightmares were bleeding more and more into his awake life. Now that he had given away the diary, there was nothing to mark the separation between what he dreamt and what he felt. 

Still, it seemed cruel when he went up at sunset to light the lamp, he thought he heard the monster talk.

“Andrew,” he said. That’s all he said. A stale sound that was carried by the stale air. Andrew looked down against his will. Drake was looking up at him, shaggy and dirty as usual. But his eyes held a gleam Andrew hadn’t seen in a decade. 

‘Alright’, Andrew thought to himself, ignoring the sharp stab of fear that ran it’s edge up Andrew’s spine, ‘I’d drunk enough’. He stumbled down the ladder after dropping his food down and made his way to the shack. 

Contrary to popular belief (of three people), Andrew wasn’t completely self destructive, so he didn't immediately open the whiskey and instead took his pill. 

He felt more settled. In fact, he felt rather good. The horrible flash of illusion on the top of the lighthouse house aside, he felt good. The last month that he had spent fervently wishing to forget once again, but now he felt maybe, just maybe he could live with the memories. Because memories were all he had now, half complete they may be.

There was this tiny voice in his head that kept reminding him that Neil didn’t come yesterday with the delivery. He obviously did not ask Matt and neither did Matt offer any explanation. He knew he had acted in the coldest manner last time they met and he had wondered the whole month if that would be the last straw for Neil. Why would anyone, especially someone as breathtaking as Neil, would waste their time on the lost cause that was Andrew? 

‘I’m trying to free you,’ Neil had said. Rubbish. Andrew could not be freed. He had promised to take care of the beast in the tower. He was the sisyphus and this was his duty.  
...

He was not drunk. He really was not. But that still didn’t explain why he was hearing his own name. It was a shrill, rough, broken voice like some demons from the bottom of the ocean floor were calling to him. But he was not drunk and it may merely be the wind. 

And then he heard the loudest shriek ever. Andrew ran outside to see if kraken had awakened but the shriek was coming from a much closer and much scarier place. 

The lighthouse. 

They say the darkest place is right under the lamp. But even from within the shadows, Andrew could see the locked door at the bottom was shaking. For a moment Andrew became paralysed with fear. This couldn’t be happening. 

“Andrewwwwww,” the voice shrieked again, this time decidedly stronger and more resembling the voice he thought he would never hear again. Andrew’ feet moved on their own and walked closer to the lighthouse. The door suddenly stopped shaking, as if hearing the tread, as if baiting its breath.

“Drake?” Andrew whispered. 

“Hello Andrew, did you miss me?” A clear lucid sentence. 

Bile rose up in Andrew’s throat and he stumbled back. At the last moment he bent down and everything in his stomach came hurling out. Drake started laughing from inside and the door resumed shaking. 

Everything inside Andrew was lined with the bitter taste of fear. He didn’t know how long the door would hold. 

He didn’t know why this was happening. He didn’t know what he could do. 

The only thing he knew was that he couldn’t escape. His fate had caught up to him. Filled with some perverse desire to see his unbecoming with his own eyes, he began climbing up the ladder, all the way to the top.

The strong revolving beam blinded him as soon as he stepped up on the platform. Sensing Andrew was there, Drake called from below.

“My pet! My darling little brother! Won’t you come down?”

Robbed of his sight for a moment and having only Drake’s words and roaring sea in his ear, Andrew felt he was in hell. This was not happening. Why was this happening?

The black spots in front of his eyes receded and he carefully came down inside the service room to look down.

He couldn’t see clearly at first, in what little light that reached the bottom. There he was, as usual, dirty, feral. There was no discernible change in him. But while all these years, Drake showed no sign of human consciousness, cursed as he was to be without it, now there was something deliberate in the way Drake stood still, looking up.

His eyes adjusted even more and he could see Drake’s face. Grinning under the beard, eyes shining. Years slipped away from him as Andrew felt like he was 6 again, meeting his new brother for the first time. He had been cautious but so, so excited. His new mother had seemed kind and there was no father. Andrew did not have good experience with fathers. 

It was the same face he saw in front of him. Same shining eyes, same wide grin. It was as normal as Andrew had thought when he was six. Or perhaps Drake was as monstrous when he was six as he looked now. 

“Fall, my pet. I will catch you.”

There was no running away. Drake didn’t need to break the door. Because Andrew was going to him. That realisation and the vertigo of looking so deep down made all the blood rush away from his head. He swayed.

Some primal feeling of survival however, screamed inside him. The spot of colours dancing in front of his eyes took shapes of floral tattoos he had seen on somebody’s arms.

Andrew stumbled back from the edge. He hit against the stem of the lamp and scorched his back. As he stepped back, Drake began screaming again, thumping against the door, throwing around the old baskets that he had. 

Andrew couldn’t bear it. If only to stop the awful screaming, he once again came to the edge and looked down. The screaming shut off. The voice once again became smooth.

“Come down, my sweet. Don’t you miss me? We had such fun, didn’t we? It was always you and me, Andrew.”

Andrew felt something hot and wet against his feet. He looked down and back to see a rivulet of something flowing from the stem of the lamp. It was oil. He must’ve cracked the oil pipe that ran up and now it was leaking. 

A drop fell down the edge. “What’s that? What is that?” Drake’s voice became urgent. “Are those tears, Drew? Are you crying? Don’t cry, I’ll-”

“Stop,” Andrew spoke for the first time since he came up. His voice sounded alien to his own ears. Too grown up. “How are you speaking? You- you’re cursed. Mother-”

“I guess mother doesn’t care anymore, Andrew. She stopped protecting you. I have my vision back. I have my strength back. I have my memories… But isn’t real life much sweeter than memories, Andrew? Come down, come down, COME DOWN.”

It was too much. Andrew’s heart and soul shrunk. The body was too big on him. His hands foreign, his legs detached. Nothing made sense and the only thing Andrew knew was certain was Drake. 

The light around him started dimming. More and more oil was spreading around him. Nothing was as it should be. Darkness started consuming Andrew, inside out.

Drake only had to wait.


	7. Always On The Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billions of thanks to nickyshemmicks on tumblr for being a beta my story. He had an exam week and still gave valuable corrections in my 13k fic... What an amazing person!

Something bad had happened. Something bad must've happened. Neil was too late. He was too slow. Why couldn’t he paddle faster? Why wasn’t the moon out tonight? Why was the lighthouse switched off?

Neil’s hands were numb, his face was numb, his body was tired beyond belief. He was approaching dawn. The light of the lighthouse had gone off a little after midnight.   
Something bad must’ve happened. Neil was too late. He was too slow.

The unending cycle of thoughts ran inside Neil’s mind. He had a small lantern on his boat with him and ever so often he was checking if this was the right direction. But it was pitch dark around him, the sky and the sea had melted into each other, and Neil had never been a good seaman. Perhaps he should’ve woken Matt up. 

Neil didn’t know why he was so filled with dread. If the curse had been lifted, then both Andrew and presumably his brother would be set free. And that was the good thing, right?

The lighthouse came in sight. And soon, so did the rest of the island. It was there as usual, except, Neil had never seen it without the imposing figure of Andrew waiting for them at the docks. He had always waited there, even if he had forgotten about them. 

‘Maybe he’s inside. He has no reason to wait on the docks at the crack of the dawn’, Neil told himself. Everything should be fine. He reached the dock and tied the rope with slightly trembling hands. He almost walked to the shack to check up when he heard a scream from the lighthouse. 

It was too shrill to be human but Neil rushed there nonetheless. The imagery of monsters from Andrew’s nightmares danced in front of his eyes. Neil had never really paid attention to the lighthouse before and he was surprised when he saw the lock on the door. The lock looked old and half rusted, as if it’s been shut for years. Neil had seen the inside of the shack, there was very little possibility that Drake was hiding in there and Neil had assumed that he had always been in the lighthouse. But this door was shut firmly.

There must be another entrance. Neil circled the building. He was now hearing voices from inside, too faint but definitely more than one. He found the ladder that went all the way up. With heart in his throat and fear in his limbs, he began climbing.

He reached all the way to the top, to the platform where the lamp was. There was no one there. But he heard a voice, distinct and as familiar as his own heart beat.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

Neil found a gap and the stairs that lead below the platform and he rushed down to see the service room, dark and filled with the acrid smell of oil. He saw Andrew, hunched on the edge, his back to him. He heard another voice somewhere form below. 

“I won’t. Just one more step.”

Was that Drake? Was he the monster? But there was no time for questions. Andrew looked ready to jump, ready to give in to whatever promises Drake was making. Neil froze for a semi second, unsure of how to pull Andrew back in time and preferably without touching him. That half second stretched like an ocean in his mind and in the end, he simply uttered,

“Andrew.”

Andrew’s head whipped back. His eyes were glassy and filled with unshed tears. It hurt Neil in more ways than he had ever imagined. 

Somebody, presumably Drake called from below, “Who’s that? Who’s there? Andrew? Andrew? ANDREW!”

The voice turned more shrill and less human. It echoed through the lighthouse.

Andrew looked back, but only briefly. The tears finally fell from his eyes but it seemed to break the spell on him. 

“Neil,” he said back. Neil waited. And waited. And waited. “Take me with you,” he said.

It was softly said but Drake must’ve heard it cause he let out a scream that was so loud, it surely would’ve been heard all the way to the shore. But Andrew stood up firmly and walked slowly. Only then Neil realised there was oil spilled on the floor, dripping down from the stem pipe and all the way down to the base. Andrew came to him and caught his hand in his own.

“You’re here,” he said in a level tone. But his perpetually clenched jaw was soft. There was a question somewhere in those two words but Neil decided those can wait for later. His first priority was getting Andrew out.

“I am. Will you come with me? Back to the shore?”

Andrew hesitated. His grip tightened. And then he nodded. Neil pressed into his hand. He led him outside and up to the light. Drake was screaming from the ground, a mix of unrecognisable words and just pure rage. Neil didn’t know what had transpired but he had a gut feeling that it was better if he didn’t go back to save Drake. 

They both climbed down. Andrew’s feet touched the ground and he took a deep breath in, feeling the rising sun on his face. 

Drake began pounding the door of the lighthouse, screaming to let him out. Neil took an unconscious step towards it and Andrew pulled him back. “Don’t. I don’t know how he got his curse removed but he’s still a monster.”

“Isn’t that Drake?” 

“You know about him?” Andrew looked at him. Neil shrugged. 

“What do we do with him?” Andrew asked instead, not really looking for an answer but musing out loud.

“Depends on why he’s here.”

“Our mother cursed and banished him here after he hurt me.”

“Then why are you here?” He didn’t want to imagine the many possible meanings behind ‘hurt’.

“Our mother also made me promise to keep him alive.”

Neil’s heart could only break so many times. “If Madame Spear hadn’t already died yesterday, I would’ve strangled her myself.”

“Oh.” Andrew huffed. “I see.”

Neil rocked on his feet, listening to Drake’s rage for a few seconds more. “If you don’t mind, maybe I’ll just go up and see how flammable all that spilled oil is.”

Andrew’s jaw tightened but he turned around and started walking to the dock. “I’ll get the boat.”

Neil grinned, a little viciously, and began climbing the ladder again. 

…

Sitting in the boat and paddling to the shore with Andrew should not feel as exciting as it was. But it was that exciting and Neil was constantly looking at Andrew's face to make sure he was real and there. Andrew however, was busy staring at the burning column of fire that was once the lighthouse. Neil wondered if he was thinking about Drake burning alive in there. He himself had avoided the temptation of looking at the face of the monster, afraid he’d jump down and try to go for his throat by his bare hands. Henessey would role her eyes and call him dramatic in that fond tone of hers but Neil was dead serious, no pun intended.

Andrew’s words jarred him out of his thoughts. “What do you plan to do once we get back?”

Neil had thankfully thought of it a few minutes ago. “Present you to the council, help you get instated as the sole heir of Spear House.”

“I don’t ever want to go back there.”

“Then help you find out your original family, see if they’re any good? Having money from the Spear House at your disposal would certainly help in doing that.”

Andrew seemed to think it over. He looked up and asked, “And what do you want out of it?”

“You can start by picking up oars and paddling. We should’ve been halfway there by now.” Neil sidestepped the question with a teasing lilt.

Andrew decided not to. 

Neil asked a question of his own. “You didn’t get anything from the shack before we left.”

Andrew shrugged and thrust his hands in his pockets. “I have everything I need,” he said, looking at Neil.

Neil smiled at him, a warm rush of affection in his chest. Andrew grabbed his face and pushed away. 

“Make no mistake, I still want to push you in the water and be done with you.”

“I’d drag you down with me.”

“Mind if I empty my pockets first then?” Andrew pulled out a paper from his left pocket. It looked like a page from the diary Neil had gifted.

Neil knew what it was. The only page in the diary he hadn’t seen. The note he had written. Like a lovesick fool, Neil smiled again. Andrew didn’t offer that page to Neil. Neil didn’t ask for it. The sun was rising above the burning tower. It was a new day and they had a series of questions and trials waiting for them on the shore that were going to consume months and years.

But Neil had outrun his father and Andrew had outlived his monster. 

The rest they would manage together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end!! I loved my first ever exchange and I hope @moderatelymothlike likes what I wrote. It was amazing writing based on Sleepy Hollow's vibe...
> 
> I certainly loved my own gift, do check it out. It's a ReneexAllison fic called 'In Your Eyes' by Cydonic and it's so lovely!!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudos and comment if ya like it!


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